


in silence, with her eternity

by flemeth



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flemeth/pseuds/flemeth
Summary: Blue thought,It's just a touch,and knew that was a lie. She thought,It has happened, and now I cannot be without it ever again,and knew that to be more right.





	in silence, with her eternity

When I spoke of Patagonia, I meant

skies all empty aching blue. I meant  
years. I meant all of them with you.  
  
— _Patagonia_ , Kate Clanchy

 

 

  
  
  
  
‘Oh good,’ says Yellow, when the communicators patch Blue through.

‘Shouldn’t you be waging war, General?’ Blue watches from on high. In the triptych of screens, Blue browses the surface leisurely: the smoking ground and all its purple foliage, trampled and cowering; the snowfall of its ugly little inhabitants as they collapse; and, center-stage, Yellow Diamond, radiant in her fury.

‘I’m _winning_ a war, actually.’

‘And you called me to... show off?’

Yellow doesn’t deny it. She goes sprinting through the lines, sword in hand. A sculpture, a painting, a song, Blue sees each as she watches the young general strike. They did not have much art before her. There was always music, of course, but it is Blue Diamond, in her infinite beauty and most divine lustre, who wove melodies into monuments. She will have them carve the exact angle of Yellow’s goading sneer. She will have them invent new materials to capture the triumphant light in the diamond’s eye, as she personally drives the blade through squalid, insufficient life. How much blood they have, thinks Blue. How terribly unfortunate to be born with such a deficiency, to bleed.

‘Come and congratulate me,’ Yellow is panting now, exhausted, exhilarated, ‘when I’m done.’ It is incomparable, she told Blue once, these final moments, and Blue had listened to Yellow describe it: the weight of a sword driven through conquered ground, the heat of one’s soldiers, moving in diligent rows at your feet. It is almost done. Beneath her, the planet swoons. They will take this final holdout and then begin the careful transformations; they will make something beautiful out of all this tarnished earth.

 

 

 

Eventually, the records say, once she had amassed an admirable collection of planets, after she had perfectly attuned their orbits, after her cities had begun to spire, White Diamond realized the tasks of rulership exceeded the burden of one.

The circumstances which give way to a diamond are rare, but what in the galaxy did not bend to White’s will? A whole planet must be sacrificed, but what is a planet to a diamond? With a steady hand, she took a world into her arms. She emptied it of its inadequate possessions. She planted something precious in its earth.

Yellow Diamond sprung forth, sword in her hand, having cleaved the planet in two. So say the records. So says White Diamond. She was to be their general, their noble conqueror, their steadfast guard. From the first, Yellow was not one to shrink from her duties.

 

 

 

Blue Diamond comes to her, perhaps too quickly, perhaps too keen. An agate leads them to Yellow’s chambers, through a tangle of hallways and high-spirits. There are the jaspers, boasting of their daring feats. And there, the peridots, chattering about all the drilling to come. She leaves her pearl amongst the revelry: ‘See that we are not disturbed.’

There is nothing in the room. Only Yellow, watching the planet stew, defeated. Blue comes to her side. She places a hand on Yellow’s arm.

‘Your second colony. Congratulations.’

‘Mm,’ Yellow inclines her head to right, away from her. ‘I was overly cautious. I could’ve won it in a week’s time, had I been thinking clearly.’

‘And what were you thinking of, instead?’

Yellow turns her head to Blue now, something almost sheepish in her eyes. ‘Not disappointing White, I suppose.’

‘Well you haven’t,’ says Blue, sympathetic, her touch more firm. There will be time for this later, when Yellow presents her report to White and White has her justify ever decision, berates her for every slip. After every campaign Yellow grows harder. She will be sharpened, her edges polished. It will be relentless. Later, Blue thinks, later. There is no need for it now: the pacing, the frowning, the tension. ‘You won, and you were magnificent. You should be happy.’

Yellow’s hand moves slowly. Hesitant. She covers Blue’s hand with her own, says, ‘Thank you for coming.’ A pause. She is picking her words cautiously, thinks Blue, and so listens for Yellow will not say. ‘I could think of no one else with whom to share this.’

‘Of course,’ says Blue. She bumps her shoulder against Yellow’s, leans in. Outside their door, celebrations, hard-won delights. And beyond their window, a planet razed. But here, between them, Blue focuses only on the pressure of Yellow’s hand over hers. On their own potentials, simmering like any other star. 

 

 

 

Yellow was created with a purpose. The path unfolded before her as easy as a flower coming to bloom. Not so with Blue. She was the accumulation of chance, the universe performing its rarities. A slow and strange collection of carbon in the darkness — and then she opened her eyes. And then years, who could say how many, spent in perfect silence. She moved wherever she was willed. She took no form, because she did not know how she was meant to look. She desired nothing, because she had not been taught to want.

White Diamond found her. White held this new diamond in her hand and called her miraculous, called her one of her own. White said they were like things, divine things, made to command. _Come,_ said White Diamond, dusting off the years of neglect, _come show them all your splendour._ And so Blue Diamond looked within herself and found a body, a shape, a voice. And so she shined.

 

 

 

Not so long after that: a wide room, its powder-blue floor, and all that restless light. It fell in waves, rippling across the floor. _And this,_ White Diamond’s voice was low, her tone indulgent _, is where we will present you._

I could ask for anything, thought Blue, and I would have it. Under her feet, her reflection multiplied. A thousand of her faces, at every angle.

 _It’s beautiful,_ she said. _Thank you._ Somewhere in the distance, White Diamond was humming a, _My dear, you are a diamond, you hardly need to thank —_ , but Blue did not hear. She adjusted the hair around her face and the Blues along the floor, up the walls, all stared. She was filled, then, with sharp understanding, of what she was, what she was meant to be. She was to be presented for worship, for adoration, and she was to adore in turn. She was to give them meaning, these winking flashes of green and orange, red and blue, that ran, now, in her shadow. It was only right.

The sea of reflections ebbed. At a distance shore, Blue saw a yellow pillar, rigid and tall. Something compelled her; she approached it. And then Yellow Diamond turned, and all the light stilled. Yellow Diamond, in her adolescence, athletic and severe. She stood with the straight-back of a child pretending at being older and Blue thought it charming.

Yellow Diamond turned, and Blue watched her frown soften, watched the eyes grow wide. Inelegantly, with great force and little grace, the solider dropped to her knee. Her cape snapped behind her, her body rocked the liquid ground. All else was silent. Yellow Diamond bowed her head, and Blue something in her chest tighten, a gasp that only she could hear.

Several lifetimes later, she will spy on a cruel and churlish planet. She will counsel a gem most beloved against its ugly and traitorous myths. And her court will bring her contemptible stories. She will hate it all and yet linger, on tiny metal suits, on coloured banners. Jousting and monarchs immortal in mosaics of coloured glass, knights and their chivalry. Her pearl will explain it all to her. _They believe there is some, ah, romance in it, Your Radiance._ And this other her, impatient and bitter, will press a hand to her chest, will think of this Yellow — young and earnest and kneeling in a breeze of light. She will think of herself, without breath. And of how the world moved inside her chest, how every star was rearranged in the sky as all things began to orbit that leaping, that feeling she could not yet name.

‘My Diamond,’ said Yellow and when she raised her head and their eyes met, Blue thought, _Yes._

_Your Diamond._

 

 

 

They are still holding hands. Blue takes it more firmly, then coaxes it to spread flat against hers. Finger to finger, palm against palm: a perfect match. Yellow looks down at this, curious, quiet. A leader so demanding of her subjects, of herself. They would not believe it, thinks Blue. This gentle touch, this compliance.

She has always been so. This is the secret Blue carries deep in her core. When Blue returns from distant star, she comes to Yellow’s chambers and Her Radiance sets down the legal records, or the astronomical charts, or the inventories of gems, the reports on this colony or that, and listens to Blue disclose the most frivolous details of whatever diplomatic engagement she and White have just attended.

Or else she comes, diligently and only playing at being begrudged, to Blue. Watches her pluck some new specimen from its electric cases. Some new artifact, pressed and preserved.

‘You keep too much,’ said Yellow, once.

‘I hate that you miss it,’ said Blue.

‘I read your reports.’

‘Oh, but it’s not the same, is it? Pearl, the latest one, please.’ In her hands, the digital casing faded away, leaving the hard emerald ring behind, the diameter of her palm. ‘Well?’ She said.

‘Well?’

‘Guess what it is.’

‘A green ring,’ said Yellow, dryly.

‘An exoskeleton,’ Blue grinned. ‘They all have them there. Touch it — it’s surprisingly strong.’

‘But what does it do? For us?’

‘If you _must_ be so serious, my court believe it could be a suitable building material for — _Oh_ —’

Reaching for it, Yellow’s fingers had brushed against hers. Blue froze. The skeleton slipped from her hands and fell to the floor.

‘I apologize,’ Yellow said. She withdrew.

‘No —’ Blue watched Yellow turn her face away quickly, cast a searching glance about to room. Below them, their pearls rushed to collect the cracked fragments, sweep them back into their case. ‘It’s — it’s fine,’ said Blue. They had never touched before. Not so simply. Not with their hands. It seemed silly and inconceivable, and yet it had never occurred. Perhaps Yellow had been afraid, too, of what would happen if did. Perhaps Yellow dreamed of it, too. Perhaps Yellow wanted it, just as Blue did, and did not know what to do with something so personal, so indulgent, so revealing. Perhaps she kept it locked away, for whom could she tell?

Blue thought, _It's just a touch_ , and knew that was a lie. She thought _, It has happened, and now I cannot be without it ever again_ , and knew that to be more right. She reached out again, and took Yellow’s hand in hers. ‘Do you know,’ she mused quietly, ‘I don’t believe there are any other hands in this universe that match mine so exactly...’

And here it is — a different chamber, but the feeling is the same. Here, the perfect hand to hold hers, the only hand. White’s hand could not fit against hers like this, were she even inclined to touch with feeling, with sentiment. Another’s gem touch is barely felt; they are so small comparison. Replicable. Insignificant. Another lifeform’s touch would be unseemly, distinctly unworthy. Hundreds of planets, near and far, and Blue has only one equal.

It is impossible, now, to let go.

 

 

 

‘You’re magnificent,’ she says again. With her free hand, she cups Yellow’s jaw, watches Yellow’s eyes leap from their hands to Blue’s face — surprised, hungry.

Yellow laces their fingers together, pulling Blue closer as she goes. She rests her forehead against Blue’s, closes her eyes, takes three deep breaths. A steadying. When she opens her eyes, she smiles: the confident general, her chivalrous knight. Yellow’s mouth is so near her own. The knight draws a thumb over her lady’s lips. There are bells inside the lady’s chest, and they are all ringing.

‘May I?’ says Yellow.

Blue bites her lip, tempers her grin.

‘I believe you should take exactly what you want, General,’ and so the general does.

They kiss. Quickly once and then deeply, without pause. Once they begin, it is as though they cannot stop. Yellow kisses her gleefully, messily, five at a time. ‘I wanted,’ she murmurs between kisses — her mouth against Blue’s, mostly, but also her nose, her cheeks, her jaw; under Yellow’s tongue, Blue’s face is made new, made radiant. ‘— For so long.’

‘I know,’ Blue pants, and, ‘Me too.’ She keeps her hand steady, holding Yellow’s face close. She thinks only of the heat between them. She thinks only of never letting it go. They kiss without need of stopping. Breathing is an embellishment. When they stop next, Blue feels Yellow’s smile pressing against her own mouth.

And then Yellow’s hands slide down her hips, under the dress. The general’s right hand presses between Blue’s thighs.

‘Our proper Blue Diamond, so patient, so serene — seems I’ve found you rather _eager_ ,’ Yellow teases. She bites down on Blue’s lip.

‘And whose fault,’ gasps Blue, ‘is that?’

Yellow quirks a brow. She pushes Blue against the wall. She sucks on Blue’s neck. ‘Mm.’

Blue feels all her sense leave her when Yellow drops to her knees.

‘What would they think of you?’ Yellow says. She means to taunt, but her voice is filled with awe. Yellow resumes her touches between Blue’s legs. Clumsy at first, but Yellow is nothing if not a quick study. She runs her tongue along the folds and, when Blue shivers, when Blue arches toward her, Yellow continues slowly, deliberately. Always, she looks up — watching.

‘Why — ah — would I bother — _ah_ — with the — _higher_ — the opinions of — of — _oh_ — insignificants?’ Why, when her subjects in all their loyalty have never shown her such devotion? When no song can bring her such pleasure? When, with each movement of Yellow’s tongue, Blue feels her universe until it’s just them, just the feeling of Yellow’s mouth against her, sucking? Blue head falls back. Feverously, she runs a hand through Yellow’s hair. ‘I’m —’ Close. So close. So —

She moans, then, as Yellow pauses, kisses the inside of her thigh. She’s flushed too, her own breathing unsteady. She grunts, smiling smally as Blue jerks in frustration. Yellow’s hand remains, thumb circling idly. ‘Please,’ Blue hears herself, an undignified whine. Yellow rises, trailing her mouth along her, higher, higher, until she rests her mouth against Blue’s neck, breathes in deeply.

‘Yellow —’

‘What do you want, Blue?’ The hand between her legs has stilled. ‘I need —’ Yellow says, quiet, filled with desperation of her own. ‘I need to hear it — I need to hear you —’

‘You,’ says Blue. ‘ _You_.’

A finger, gently, inside her. Then movement. Then two, the rhythm building. ‘Ah — yes —’ And then Yellow, dipping her head, running her tongue along the jewel at the centre of Blue’s chest. ‘ _Oh_ —!’ There are no words for it, no sounds, no song. Blue’s mouth is open, wanting and speechless. Yellow’s hand moves faster as she licks every edge, every facet of Blue’s gem. A sloppy mouth, a greedy mouth, merciless. Yellow sucks, wet and deep, like she could swallow it whole. Blue’s hand presses against the general’s head, holding her there, an order of her own.

‘Yellow I’m — Yellow — I can’t, I can’t —’

When Yellow bites down against her gem, fingers deep inside her, Blue’s whole body sings. Blue’s body sings and the world sings, too. Her eyes roll back, her body without breath, and the whole room is electrified, the whole room is blue. Blue, like her gemstone, shining between Yellow’s teeth. Powder-blue, rippling, and Yellow kneeling at her feet. A chorus of blues, of fingers intertwined; of fleeting glances, accumulated; of Yellow turning, always turning, towards her, always smiling, always hers.

‘My Diamond,’ purrs Blue, as her breathing begins to ease. _My Diamond_ , possessive and adoring. She looks down. The records will never know this, no one else will ever know this: Yellow, looking up at her with such reverence in her eyes. If only they could see it. Blue takes Yellow’s face in both her hands. She has never seen such wonder before. She wishes there was a colour for it.

‘You feel all that,’ Yellow whispers, ‘for me?’

A world in blue. A feeling moving between then, filling them. What more can Blue say? She nods. ‘Yes.’ _You silly fool,_ she thinks. _Who else?_ But all she can say is, ‘Yes. For so long.’ Blue lowers her head. She kisses Yellow’s forehead, laughing, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ as their mouths meet again. They have begun it, properly, without restraint; Blue knows they will not be able to stop now.

Outside, there is noise, and there are colours: the reds and greens and violets and pearls of their subjects. There is the ashen palette of a world conquered. There is the darkness of space and the relentless light of stars.  
  
And here, pressed against her, yellow. And here, all around them, blue, exuberant.  
  
Blue sees herself, a thousand times over, in the air: and all her eyes are shining, and all her smiles eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a bastardized line from t. h. white's _the once and future king_. i'm incredibly rusty, but i was consumed by the idea of these two young and happier and eager  & i was also enamoured with the theory that blue's empathetic powers extend beyond sadness. so here is something small.


End file.
